


Silence

by Syrenslure



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrenslure/pseuds/Syrenslure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Improv: #19 noble -- damn -- still -- struggle. This is written post-season 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this is a first for me. In the spirit of trying to write more, I joined the improv list... and three improv's later I am finally giving it a shot. I was designing my new site "Nothing to Hide" and listening to some Richard Marx cd's. I heard "Until I find You Again" by Richard Marx. This is one of my favorite songs. It is beautiful and poignant. This story went through many incarnations, even starting as a Buffy/Angel - beginning of season 3 fic (and I don't write B/A). Finally, I realized that Joss had at least provided us with a great vehicle for angsty fics.

Have you ever sat in one place so long that you couldn't feel your body, couldn't even tell that you were still sitting except that you told yourself you were? Have you ever lost yourself so deeply in your thoughts that your mind was completely blank? It's like one of those instructional techniques that they teach you to focus, to meditate, to sharpen your mind into a finely tuned instrument

I don't really know how long I've been sitting here. There is no sunlight, in this tightly closed room, to remind me of the days and nights that have passed since you left me. There are no clocks in my field of vision and I haven't moved in a while ... hours ... days ... weeks. Time has no meaning to me. I don't remember that last time I ate, or spoke, or cried. I haven't done anything but sit here so still, thinking that perhaps if I stay quiet enough, still enough that time won't pass. Maybe it will go back and I will wake up and find this is all a dream. Maybe I will find that place deep enough inside myself where it never even happened, where you still shine so brightly.

At first I tried to stay busy, to be noble and strong and make you proud. Each night I would walk in your place, doing my best to answer your calling, even if it was no longer yours. I slayed vampires and even a demon or two, and in that moment when the adrenaline rose and the fists were flying and the stake was being driven home I would forget.

I lived for the fight whether I won or lost. If I won there was a little less evil in the world. It was my gift to you. I was like a cat stalking and hunting a mouse, until it was this bloody, mangled, limp thing to bring to you and show you how useful and loyal I am. If I lost or ended up bloody, mangled and limp myself, that was alright as well, because even my struggle and suffering were for you. And if one of those times when the rat takes the cat I died, then perhaps I would find you again.

Every so often when the dust settled and I was still standing, the night silent and loud, the dark stars shining down on me, I would feel you. I would turn, your name on my lips, a prayer, a wish. Silence, screaming, dead silence. My heart would be torn apart again, shredded a bit more for every inch you fell. A falling star, the goddess descending, your damn noble pride taking you away from us.

You left me.

I rail and pound against the harsh brick wall, kicking and punching. I don't know who I am fighting.

I HATE YOU!

I love you.

You left me.

You... me... Glory... God... you... ... ... who do I blame? Why did you leave me? I look at my hands. My knuckles are bruised and bloody and torn. The wall won't fight back. Why doesn't it fight back?

I prayed then. If you can call it praying. Mostly I cried and begged and pleaded with all the powers that be, any god or goddess who would listen to bring you back to me. Let me hold you, touch you, love you again. Silence, screaming silence.

Ice cubes click and a cold drop of water runs down over my bruised knuckles. I don't remember getting a drink, but this tiny jarring of awareness shows me the bottles scattered around, the bag of ice melting on the floor near my chair and I realize that there must have been a lot of them. Great plan. Drink till I forget, drink till I don't feel, can't think. Drink till I can't feel my body and my mind is completely blank.

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://panthermoon.com/dreaming/viewstory.php?sid=23>  



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